Out of Luck
by bubblesquirt
Summary: Sam's taken. Yeah I don't really know what else to put. Sam angst, protective Dean ahead?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I am not making any money from this.

I'm not really expecting a lot of response to this. It's not great, hopefully it's not horrible. I mostly wrote it for me, but I would like to know what you think!

Also I have no beta, so any and all mistakes are mine.

* * *

Brrrrring.

"Mmmmaaammmm."

Brrrrring.

"You gonna get that?"

Brrrrring.

"Fuck. Answer your goddamn phone."

Brrrii- A hand shot from it's hiding place beneath the pillow and grabbed the irritating object.

"What the f-"

"I think you'll find out soon enough not to keep me waiting." The voice was low, gravelly, menacing.

Dean laughed into the phone before he pushed the end button.

His head returned to its precious spot under the pillow, his hand resting on the knife that lay mere inches away.

"Sam you got some weirdo freaks you like to call friends." His voice was muffled from the fabric. He waited for the appropriate huff or typical comeback from his little big brother, but none came. He decided to taunt further.

"Well what do I expect right? I mean they are your friends."

Something did break the silence, but it wasn't Sam. It was his phone.

Dean's head shot out from underneath the pillow and stared at the cell. The chirp had indicated a text message. Had Sam been in contact with any of his Stanford buddies lately? He hadn't mentioned it.

His eyes shot to the other bed occupying the room. The rather messy, but very empty, bed. His mouth remained open for a second before he called out his brother's name, his eyes taking in all the details. The door was still closed and locked, the bathroom door was also closed, but had so far been no sign of activity inside.

His eyes traveled back to the phone, its screen illuminating the darkness in the room. Slowly, he picked it up and squinted at the bright light.

One new message.

Dean pushed the read button and barely managed to hold onto it. On the screen read the words:

I have Sam.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys! Sorry it took me so long! I know you don't really wanna hear excuses, so on with the show! I hope you like it. D Oh and don't forget that I don't have a beta and this was sort of rushed so please forgive me for any mistakes!!

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Sam tracked him with his eyes; it wasn't like he could move anything else. Defiance radiated from him and he tried to portray a worthy adversary, rather than a fallen victim. He twisted his wrists that were trapped to the chair's arms. The duct tape won, as expected. A chill ran up his spine, but Sam knew it was from more than the cold. His button up shirt had been undone during the time of his unconsciousness and the thin shirt underneath held no substantial warmth.

His captor was suddenly staring at him. Sam immediately stilled as the masked man rushed toward him, his boots echoing across the hardwood floor. Sam glanced at his own vulnerable bare feet, before locking eyes with his captor, hatred literally pouring out.

The man slowly reached toward Sam's face, waiting for a reaction, but Sam barely moved. He swiftly tore the tape from Sam's mouth, much like one would tear a band aid off a child's scratched knee. He gently raised a finger to move Sam's bangs out of his eyes, and this is when he did get a reaction. Sam jerked his head away and glared at him.

"The fuck you think you're doing?" Sam spat.

Instead of replying, the man continued his trek to Sam's hair and twisted his fingers through it. Repulsion was clearly evident on Sam's face as he tried to pull away.

"_What-_?"

Sam stopped talking as the man brought his face closer to his, now both hands wrapped in his hair.

"You smell so good."

Sam's eyes were wide and he tried not to shake as the madman continued to bury his face in his hair. He was close, too close and Sam couldn't move away, couldn't move an inch. Now his fingers were curled in the loose hairs at the nape of his neck and he was.. wait, was he kissing his head?

Sam couldn't take anymore and quickly pulled back and head butted the pervert. A thin trickle of blood made a path down his abductor's chin and fell to the ground. Sam could feel his own river of blood making its way down from his hairline. He struggled harder against his bonds, now more resolved than ever that he had to, needed to get away and fast.

Silver flashed across his field of vision and suddenly it was the only thing he could see. The knife was gripped tightly in the man's hand and then, without warning, he was gone, behind Sam somewhere. And just as quick he was touching him again, his hand on Sam's forehead, exposing his neck. He was completely immobilized, with his head being held against the psycho's chest, and the knife resting against his jugular.

Sam tried to slow his breathing but he could feel the sharpness of the blade cutting through his skin like paper. The man's face was suddenly against his cheek, then gentle nibbling on his ear. Disgust rolled through Sam, and he closed his eyes and tried not to panic.

"You're perfect."

_What?? _This was seriously turning out to be one fucked up --

* * *

Fuckfuckfuckfuckity_fuck_.

In the past fifteen minutes Dean had checked everywhere, the closet, the bathroom, the parking lot, the Impala. Under the bed, at the front desk, the rooms next door. No sign of intrusion, no sign of any activity, but most importantly, no Sam. Why wouldn't that fucker just call back already? The number was private (of _fucking_ course) so Dean had no choice but to wait. Which, anyone who knew Dean would know that that was not his strong suit. Waiting in line for a hamburger was one thing. This was a whole 'nother level.

_Brrrring._

Dean struggled to quickly retrieve the phone from his pocket, briefly wondering at Sam's poor choice of ringtones, before finally pressing that small damn button and -

"Hello? Who is this? What do you want? Where's my brother?" The questions were rushed, the speed of his heart quickening at the silence.

"Dean." The voice was strained, whispered, desperate. But it was _Sam's_.

"Sam, oh my God. Where are you? Are you alright? Did-"

"Dean, listen to me." There was an unbearable pause. A sharp intake of breath and then, "You gotta do what he says, alright? They-" Sam stopped. And Dean could swear he heard tears in his voice.

"Sammy? What is it? What are they doing to make you say this?" Dean's worry for his brother's safety escalated, his voice raising higher.

"Please, just.." There was a muffled noise, like the phone was being moved and then it wasn't Sam anymore.

"Oh my god, please help us." A girl's terrified voice came over the line, and Dean's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"What? Who is this? What's going-" Dean stopped when he heard a man talking in the background, instructing the girl what to do.

"_Tell him what's happening." _

A strangled sob sounded, and a "no please." He heard a noise that sounded like flesh hitting flesh and a muffled cry, before the girl finally complied.

"Hello?? What's happening? Where's Sam?" Dean half way shouted into the phone.

"Ok! Ok… Uhh.." Shaky breath. "He's … There's a knife to his throat." She whimpered. "They're going to kill him." She whispered, tears strangling her voice.

"What?? Hey, let me talk to whoever's in charge, alright?? Just.. tell me. Is Sam alright? Is he hurt?"

"I can't… I'm not supposed to say."

Dean's pacing stopped, and he ran a hand over his face. He was getting tired of this sick fuck's game.

"Just tell him I'll do whatever he wants, alright? Tell him." When he was only met with silence, he yelled the words again. "Tell him!"

He could imagine the girl's reaction, and could definitely hear her shaking. It was a wonder she didn't drop the phone.

The voice in the background was back, slightly softer, but Dean could still hear him.

"_Beg. Beg him to save you."_

The girl's sobs got worse and it sounded like she was hyperventilating.

"I…"

"_Say, 'Help me, Dean. Save me.'"_

A frightened yelp sounded out of the girl and Dean could only imagine what the creep was doing to her. And Sam was probably watching the whole thing, helpless to do anything.

"Dean! P-p-please." A hiccup and more sobbing sounded before she could continue. "H-h-help m-me. Help us."

Laughter sounded in the background and Dean could hear their captor mocking the petrified girl.

"_Yes, Dean. P-p-please help us." _More laughter followed.

"You tell that sick son of a bitch that if he hurts either one of you-" Dean stopped, his mouth remaining open as a scream tore through the air.

"Hey?? …Girl?" He finished lamely, not knowing her name. Who was this chick anyway? Why was she there with Sam? What the hell was going on?

He could hear the phone being transferred again, and then the voice from the first call was there. Dean could barely suppress his rage.

"I imagine I've gotten your full attention now?"

"You fucking-" Dean was interrupted yet again.

"Threats are useless and so over done, don't you think? Let me guess, if I hurt one hair on your _pretty_ brother's head, you're going to hunt me down, and kill me dead. Does that about sum it up?"

Something twisted in Dean's stomach at how the fucko had said the word "pretty" to describe his brother. Just what were they dealing with?

A low, dangerous chuckle came from Dean.

"Oh, you can count on it, bitch. And don't think that I'll stop with you. I'll come after your family. Your friends. Everyone you've ever loved. I'm gonna take them from you. Do NOT touch my brother again, you sick freak." Dean had to admit, it felt good to finally get a threat all out without getting interrupted, but the silence on the other end had him second guessing himself. _Say something, damnit!_

"Tell me.. Do you think your brother needs all his toes? I mean, honestly, one less wouldn't hurt. Hmm?"

Dean's heart leapt to this throat, and his stomach clenched. He held the back of his hand to his mouth and took a breath before replying.

"I'm listening. Just.. don't hurt my brother." His tone was dejected; one of defeat, but the man on the other line knew it would take more to finally break this one.

"I need you to do something for me. I've sent an email with all the details. Don't fuck this up, or _Sammy _might be missing a few body parts. How would you feel about receiving little brother through the mail, piece by piece?"

Dean swallowed and pushed away the screaming voice in his head. "Let me talk to him. I need to talk to him."

There was a brief silence and then, "No. I'll call in 24 hours to make sure you've cooperated and to ensure your brother's safety, remember that you will be watched. So don't mess up, big brother."

Dean's mind was screaming at him again. _Twenty four hours?? _Too much could happen to his brother in a whole day.

"Wait, I-" Dean stopped when he realized no one was listening anymore. The call had ended. Dean hung his head, and wiped at his tired eyes.

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Eeeee! Will you please tell me what you thought?? 


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